


Keep Me Safe

by Punk_Peter_Pan



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gabe speaks spanish to Pete and Pete... enjoys it, M/M, Patrick Stump is very patient, Pete just needs a cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Peter_Pan/pseuds/Punk_Peter_Pan
Summary: Gabe's out of town and Pete feels it through discomfort that won't leave, which is weird.Cause Gabe and Pete are just friends.That is until Gabe surprises Pete by coming home early, and Pete doesn't want to let him go. Thing is, Gabe doesn't really seem to want to let Pete go either.
Relationships: Gabe Saporta/Pete Wentz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Keep Me Safe

Gabe is out of town. And Pete feels gross. Not that those two things have any correlation to each other.  
Shut up.

The thing is, it’s not panic… it’s more, discomfort.  
But that’s almost worse, isn’t it? Because panic is all-encompassing and takes over and makes itself known. Discomfort just sits inside your stomach and rots at your insides, your happiness. It makes you feel weird. And gross.  
Pete feels gross.  
Maybe that’s because he hasn’t showered in a week.

Patrick notices as soon as he walks in the studio and gives him The Look™. The slightly raised eyebrows, the crease in the forehead, eyes wide and screaming, “trust me!”, a frown barely touched by exhaustion. It’s Patrick’s “are you okay?” look. Pete gets that look a lot from Patrick so he’s stuck between shaking him and screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK?” in his face, or falling to his knees and thanking god someone noticed. Pete forces a smile back because even though he cannot name perfection without naming Patrick, Patrick isn’t really what he needs right now.

(He needs to feel surrounded, protected, owned. Someone who will wrap him up and hold him still and squeeze him tight enough the broken pieces that shift under his skin somehow fuse back together.)

Recording is tough because Patrick is tough on all of them, (for good reason) and Pete is tough on himself. It ends, finally, around 1:15 am and Patrick corners him before he can escape.  
“Talk to me.” Not a question from old Trick there.  
“M’ fine.”  
“That’s a lie and we both know it.”  
Pete sighs and crosses his arms over his chest which just makes him feel more claustrophobic.   
“You need something,” Patrick says, his voice patient, insinuating but not demanding. Pete swallows. “Tell me.”  
Pete shivers. Talking is hard, and words are hard. “I feel uncomfortable. I know how to fix it but I can’t… I can’t ask that.”  
Patrick sighs and mirrors Pete’s arms across his chest. “Of course you can ask for it. You can ask for anything. You literally could not shock me at this point.”  
Pete laughs. That’s a fucking challenge.   
“This might.”  
“Nope.”  
“Wanna bet?”  
“Cards on the table.”  
Pete sighs and the fight leaves him. Alright. Patrick asked for it. How the hell he is going to frame the sentence without making it sound like a sex thing is beyond him. He settles for, “Needa feel wrapped up. Want… Need to feel like someone won’t let me go. Like I can relax, finally. Submit.” He cringes heavily at the last word but Patrick just nods.   
“Protected.” He says. Pete nods. “Safe.”  
“But I can’t… I can’t ask the person I want to ask.”  
He tries to hide the person he’s talking about from Patrick, but Patrick’s a total mind reader and sees right through him. Like every other time. God Pete sucks at being mysterious.  
“He’ll be home soon Pete.” Pete nods.  
No point hiding anymore. “I know it just… I feel wrong.” Which is not really what he should be feeling. Gabe and Pete are friends. FRIENDS.   
Patrick hums and tells Pete to go home and gets some sleep. He calls Patrick when he gets home and Patrick sings to him until he falls asleep, shifting comfortably the too-large shirt he ended up in as pyjamas that he doesn’t remember buying. 

***

It is fucking 6 in the morning when he is ripped from his slumber by some idiot knocking at the door. Pete groans and flops to the side, praying God for forgiveness for whatever the fuck he’s done to deserve this. The knocking continues. Motherfucker is stubborn. Pete sits up slowly and rubs at his face with his hands. The discomfort is still there but now it’s worse, tinged with guilt because he DEFINITELY just told his best friend that he kinda needed to be owned like a bitch by his OTHER best friend and Pete- can’t really think about that without having thoughts way too intense for this early in the morning. 

There’s another knock and Pete yells out, “Coming! I’m coming. Jesus,” before throwing himself out of bed and working his way through his apartment to the door.  
He works the handle open finally.  
And now Pete knows why Patrick had the confidence to send Pete home alone last night.  
“Hey.”  
Relief.  
Pete throws himself at Gabe before he can stop himself and is immediately rewarded with tallwarmstrongbigsafegood that vibrates through him. He unashamedly breathes Gabe in until Gabe’s surrounding his body and working his way inside his organs. Gabe laughs and Pete can feel it against his chest.  
“Missed you too, little man.”  
Pete’s vaguely aware his vocabulary at that moment consists of purely, “Gabegabegabegabegabegabe” but can’t really bring himself to care. Gabe lifts him up. LIFTS HIM UP. And carries him onto the couch where he had clearly planned to sit next to Pete, but as Pete refuses to detach himself, ends up sitting Pete in his lap.   
“Missed you,” Pete says into Gabe’s neck. Gabe is so warm, and he holds Pete so tightly against him like he isn’t afraid about how it will look. And he’s so big and long that Pete can’t move anywhere without being obstructed by him. It’s exactly what he needed.   
“Me too, baby.” Pete shines and blushes at the pet name and refuses to let Gabe see. “Patrick said you had something going on. Something you wanted to talk to me about.” 

And all of a sudden the dread and the discomfort is back. Pete nuzzles further into Gabe’s olive skin, trying to chase the feeling of safety, but it won’t. Pete whines and shakes his head against Gabe’s shoulder. It’s no use. He pulls Pete backward until he can look Pete in the eye. Pete pointedly refuses to meet Gabe’s gaze, staring at his hands until one of Gabe’s hands leaves his waist and a finger comes under his chin, lifting his head up until Pete huffs and finally meet’s Gabe’s eyes. Goddamit. It was going so well.  
“So?”  
Pete’s arms try to go back over and cross his chest again, armour. Protection. But Gabe grabs his wrists and brings them to his thighs.  
“Pete.”  
“Can’t we just wait? I don’t want to talk about it now.” Gabe sighs and rolls his eyes and there’s another classic Pete + Person interaction.   
“You never want to have hard conversations, novio, but we have them anyway.”   
Pete is slowly giving in and Gabe can see it because, for such a fucking idiot, he’s ridiculously smart with people.   
“Talk to me. Mi querido, mi novio, mi amor…” Gabe is really fucking with him because even though Pete speaks no fucking Spanish, he can guess that the silken words that Gabe is wrapping him up in are not something you say to a friend. Because Gabe and Pete are friends goddamit but Gabe just keeps talking and rubbing circles into Pete’s hips whenever Pete’s breathing picks up but he can’t tell him he can’t.  
“Pete.” Pete snaps out of his own head.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
Gabe rubs at his forehead and closes his eyes. Pete misses the hand on his waist as soon as it’s gone. “We talk about it now or we talk about it later. It’s up to you.”  
“Later.”  
Gabe nods and turns on Pete’s TV, putting on a show that he knows both of them won’t watch. He brings Pete against his chest and holds him tighter when he tries to squirm away. 

It’s a couple hours and lunch later when Gabe brings it up again. Pete’s floating through a weird mood where he’s buzzing, but nicely. Like he’s high. Gabe is careful about what he says to keep Pete there because Pete’s a bit loose-lipped when he’s like this and Gabe will do pretty much anything to learn whatever Patrick thought was so important he got Gabe a plane ticket.   
“Hey,” Pete’s attention is slowly brought back to Gabe. “You know you can trust me right? Nothing you say would make me leave, Petey. Nothing.”   
Pete’s eyes blink slowly and he nods when Gabe says, “Okay?”  
Gabe nods back. “So you can tell me anything.” Pete nods again.  
“What’s up Pete? Why did Patrick want me to be here so bad?”  
Pete takes a moment to find the words, but he’s not particularly careful with them, stupid from sleep and calm. “You’re the only one that makes me feel good.”

That was so not what Gabe was expecting.

“What about Patrick?”   
“Patrick is good but he… you make me feel… safe.”  
Which is really fucking weird, by the way, because the world has told the story of PeteandPatrick, PatrickandPete, the only saviours for each other. But now Pete’s here and saying that he needs him.   
Gabe tries to joke about it, “well I am a bit taller than him.” But Pete cuts him off, “And bigger, and more intimidating, and more dominating, and you pick me up and make me do things.” And that is so not a joke that Gabe has to catch his breath.  
Pete’s words catch up to him and he goes red in the face pushing himself off Gabe with wide eyes. “Fuck I’m so sorry. Jesus. That was so weird I’m sorry.”   
He doesn’t get far before Gabe reaches out and grabs Pete’s wrist, halting his escape plan.   
“You mean that?”  
“N-no I-”  
“I make you feel good?”  
“Gabe-”  
“Safe?”  
“Listen I-”  
“Dominated?”  
Pete’s breath catches in his throat and he stops moving very suddenly. Bingo. Gabe’s answering grin is wicked and relentless across his handsome face and Pete’s inside’s go cold. Gabe’s fingers are still tight around his wrist and he knows the jig is up because it’s been a good couple seconds and he’s only finally getting his throat to work.  
“Fuck you.” Pete tries and he twists his wrist out of Gabe’s hold, running for his bedroom door. Gabe gives him a couple seconds before he follows, watching Pete disappear and slam the door behind him. 

“Pete.” Gabe leans against the closed door and speaks slow and careful. “I want you to come out of your room for me.”  
There’s a disgruntled, “no” from the other side of the door but nothing further. Gabe can feel the pressure of Pete curled against the door, trapping him outside. Classic.   
“Petey, mi querido, I want you to come to me.” A couple seconds, then… movement. “Come on baby, come to me. I’ll give you what you want, mi dulce, mi encantador.”  
“You’re mad at me.” Pete’s voice is small and afraid and Gabe’s heart aches.  
“I’m not angry baby, I’m not. Listen to my voice. Do I sound angry?”  
Pete huffs and Gabe repeats himself, “baby. Do I sound angry?”  
“No.”  
“Cause I’m not.”  
“But it’s weird,” Pete says.  
“This is not my first rodeo, maravilloso, I know what I’m doing. And it’s not like you’re particularly subtle.”  
“Fuck off.”  
“No, I don’t think I will.” Gabe’s words have a bite to them now and Pete hates that he’s made Gabe angry. “Stop hiding.”  
Pete gives in and stands up slowly. Gabe settles on the wall next to the door in a lean, watches as Pete opens the door slowly, looking at him like he’s waiting for Gabe to throw an insult. Or more likely, a punch. Gabe doesn’t, though. Just waits.

“Good boy.”  
That goes straight to Pete’s insides, makes him feel warm and happy. He won’t approach Gabe anymore though yet. Just in case.  
Gabe breathes big and easy, lets his eyes slide down Pete’s body and Pete feels it so intensely it’s like a physical caress. He shivers and Gabe smiles.  
“Come to me.” Pete’s body is straining forward but his mind holds it still. “Pete, ven a mi, baby. Come here.”   
Pete comes out of the room and approaches Gabe like a scared animal. “That’s it. There’s my good boy. My baby.” Gabe’s hands find their way to his hips and steady Pete for a moment before lifting one to Pete’s face.   
“Look at you.” Pete’s insides sing and his mind is drifting. “Beautiful.” Pete nuzzles into the hand on his cheek and closes his eyes. He feels wrapped up in Gabe’s touch, but he won’t let Gabe have what he wants just yet. Or he tries not to. Thing is, Gabe’s just… what Pete need’s right now. And the logical part of his brain, the one that doesn’t constantly scream at him to fight and push back, is arguing that maybe this is okay.   
“This is not what friends do,” Pete tries as a last-ditch attempt.   
Gabe shakes his head and kisses Pete’s forehead, his nose, then his parted lips. “No, it’s not.”   
“You don’t,” Pete swallows even though his throat is dry. “You don’t wanna be my friend.”  
“I’m very happy to be your friend,” Gabe says, kissing Pete again and suddenly Pete’s done.  
“I don’t wanna be your friend,” Pete whispers hoarsely. His words are coming out like he’s drunk. Uncontrollable in the same way they were on the couch. “Wanna be more than friends.”  
Gabe nods and takes Pete’s hand in his, leading him back to the couch and sitting Pete down on his lap. Pete presses himself flush to Gabe and repeats, “wanna be more than friends” until Gabe kisses the words from his throat. 

Gabe’s hands are big, and when he wraps them around Pete’s waist, they almost encompass him. Pete feels small in the best way and as he’s given kiss after kiss, he drifts slowly into submission. Gabe doesn’t laugh, or make fun of him or worse, leave. He just pets Pete and gives him long warm kisses and sharp little bites and watches as Pete’s eyes slip closed. Pete makes a soft noise into Gabe’s neck and yawns.  
“M’tired.” Gabe holds him closer and hums softly. “Go to sleep, mi querido.”  
“M’ scared. Nightmares.” Pete says. Gabe presses a soft kiss to his forehead and the last thing Pete hears before drifting into sleep is,  
“Oh baby, I’ll protect you.”


End file.
